A Fatal Taste
by Mischieviant
Summary: A continuation of the anime. Her weakness, her strength, the sweet seduction of inexperience.Alucard x Seras. My first fanfiction :D
1. Trepidation

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any of its characters etc.

Chapter 1 : Trepidation

A shadow-merging silhouette of disciplined grace flickering with each passing shaft of silken silver hue continued undeterred, each curt clip of the moonlit parquet resounding through the vacant halls, accompanied only by an occasional shaken breath. The silent walk from the depth of the mansions stonewalled cellars had begun with a forced surge of determination and grit, both brought on by several hours of self-coaxing, internal conflict, and of course the logical assurance that the occurrence itself was inevitable.

Intentional procrastination, or indeed any attempt at delay would only further agitate such an unpredictable situation. 'Best get it over with.' Had mentally echoed every step, every stair and every door. Still, one could not quench the frosty burn of unreasoned fear and static nerves that prickled within at the thought of total humiliation by reprimand or, worse still, the disappointed and damning looks of blame that only serve to deepen the pangs of self-accusation and complete failure.

But this damnation was her reward for such carelessness, not for her life, but those of the soldiers serving beneath her, those whom had trusted themselves, without judgement, to her, both loyal and dedicated in their service. To each bloody and torturous death she had led them; a superior, a commander, a friend. There was no punishment, she understood, just enough for her crimes nor was there a reversal for the pain and grief caused, she would accept her dealings without any offer of justification nor pathetic excuse in the face of her superior's severity.

For in truth, no punishment dealt by another could overshadow the wrenches of guilt or the singed memories of gore that flooded her, their agony-twisted faces that still pleaded for her aid, for anyone's and eventually for their own blissful end. Forevermore, every moment her eyelids closed or sleep slowly lulled her thoughts she would see those faces and the uniformed stretch of nameless, dull granite gravestones. Forevermore she would hear the harsh wretches of mourning wives or grieving parents, each and every innocent curiosity of naive children, those yet too young to comprehend the finality of death.

Even the silence and blank stares of the emptied individuals who were now left to face this harsh reality alone, struck something deep within her, perhaps her realization that this was her reaction when, as a small child, she had stood at her fathers grave completely unresponsive, uncaring and unaware of the silent trails that stained her rosy cheeks. She knew their pain, she knew their blame and she knew it was deserved.

After three shuddering pounds of the grand oak door, none nearly as loud as the thunderous, bloodthirsty wringing of her deadened heart, and a succession of deep breaths, she waited. Waited for the call that would deliver her to her executioner, the futile hope still lingering that beyond the heavy, arched doors lay an empty office. Fidgeting, she fixed her lapels, tugged the hem of her skirt and ruffled her hair, the silence growing, now a thumping pulse in her ears.

"Enter." The calm, ice voice sliced through any illusions of her actions being overlooked, Integra with her warmth of a frozen corpse was most certainly angry. At once her cool façade was deciphered, her tones recognised as those she reserved for intimidation, clear and decisive execution and strictly impersonal discipline.

'Into the lions den.' With a last deep grasp of unneeded air the young commander grasped the cold iron handle, swiftly revealing herself, flooding the barren halls with the blue taint of the full moon now visible in its magnificent entirety.

The room was dark, an inky intangible mass bathed in only the natural radiance of the night that had proudly revealed itself amongst the velvet cobalt background, sprinkled with the occasional diamond twinkle. A rigid silhouette interrupted her view beyond the great glass window of the office, a gentle waft of smoky tendrils floating across the cratered silver surface that seemed so close; she had never seen it look so beautiful.

Alucard lingered among the shadows at the far corner of the room, his vantage point to survey the interesting scene that was about to stage. A master of the shadows, he coagulated seamlessly, unsure as to whether his master even knew of his presence. Then again, she seemed unnaturally perceptive for a human, or perhaps it was his constant talent for appearing at the most inappropriate moments that she had come to not only predict, but also expect.

The policegirl, he was certain, remained oblivious, such was the limited perceptions of the naive and delicate child he was most loath at times to refer to as his second. It seemed the girl would never learn and as such he would never teach, until the time came when she would show some worthiness, some spirit and at the very least willingness to embrace the true power of the nosferatu, his brethren. Until that moment he would not waste his time, his pride would not allow it, he had no time for her indecision and weakness. He would accept it neither from his master nor the soldiers beneath her and so he most certainly would not accept it from his fledgling, there was no excuse.

But he had not yet given up hope, for there were signs. There were signs of acceptance; times when he could see her treasure with pride her newfound life and abilities. He watched as she stepped stiffly forward, her gaze held level; she had not dropped her eyes to the floor, a miracle in itself. He was somewhat respectful of her for accepting what was sure to be a firm reprimand, in the very least, as opposed to hiding her face in an pathetic attempt at unvoiced pleading.

It was as she entered he noticed her captivation with the view, the silent majesty of the full moon. He too had found great beauty in this night's glorious skies, for all creatures of the night the moon was a comforting, soothing caress were the sun was a harsh, thirsting burn, but tonight its silvery glow and selfish swallow of the sky from behind the crossed panes of the window only served to taunt him, his only desire to be free once more to wander beneath its embrace.

Policegirl had appeared almost hypnotised by its magnificence, oblivious, once more, to its hidden mockery. But the hidden twinkle that fluttered beneath those lashes had not escaped his attention and he realised that she had been somewhat instinctively drawn to its seductive splendour. 'Indeed, there is hope for her yet.'

She watched Integra's unmoving figure linger before the window in what she could only assume was contemplation, but not for her judgement in this situation, no Integra was never one to mull over a decision or feel even the most minute pangs of regret, it was just not in her nature. A natural born leader, she was decisive, cold and even ruthless in her orders, never one to be disobeyed or let down. The young girl respected her ability to command, and even somewhat looked up to her, realizing she would never attain such independence or doubtless self-confidence.

As the strangling, silent minutes passed, each more suffocating than the last, she resisted the urge to loudly clear her throat and stuffed her trembling hands into a formal grasp behind her back. Showing her selfish fear would not do at all, but only serve to discredit her apparent decision to accept her fate and show at last some form of courage, she deserved this, if not only to offer some form of retribution to her comrades' memories.

Eventually, Integra, stark blond hair framing a set of bespectacled ice blue eyes, turned, walking rigidly to her imposing oak desk, eyes closed, settled into her leather chair crossing one leg over the other and released a held sigh.

The commander noticed the slightly slouched posture as she dropped the file from her nimble fingers, splaying the images she had so often recounted in not only her nightmares but also every waking moment, across the gleaming surface. She finally opened her eyes, revealing her icy glare with a hint of what could only be placed as slight exasperation to stare at the slight form standing patiently, if not anxiously, before her.

The young girl instantly recognised the slight tilt of the head, purse of the lips and straight, numb stare with a single raised brow, she could see her superiors hands clasped firmly on her lap, thumbs tightly pressed against one another. It was her main dread of this encounter, the one question she could not even fathom a reply to, let alone predict the reaction to anything she might have used in some attempt at a coherent sentence.

And then,with complete, unaffected monotone, she spoke, "Explain."


	2. The Bite of Ice

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any of it's characters, etc.

Chapter 2: The Bite of Ice

"I…"

The fountain of diction that had floundered her mind in nerves had turned arid, arid as the scorched dust that thirstily scrapes the brazen surface of exotic sand peaked deserts. Such a drought was quite a feat within her usually cluttered mind, though not a welcome one.

"Officer Seras Victoria, explain yourself." The strained and firm tone was not lost on her. Each slow syllable pronounced with wincing clarity, steeled quality.

For every imagined scenario, she realised, no matter her words, she would fall foul to fate. Pointless reasons, nervous ramblings, even a complete spew of psychological self-analysis would not deter the looming grasp of providence; the barbed, sardonic grasp that it is.

She could feel the gentle warmth of amusement radiate deliciously from the stark blackness to her left; already having detected his presence as she had entered the room.

No doubt she was entertaining her master's curiosity with her immediate lack of coherency tailed by staunch silence. 'I'm glad someone still has the gift of humour, inappropriate as it may be.' But by now she had begun to unravel the frayed mystery of these habitual inconsistencies and perverse enjoyments, she had even come to respect his superior intellect, even if it entailed rather condescending conversation.

The progression of time from her, for want of a better word, _interesting _beginnings at Hellsing to her current position within the household had served only to substantiate the arousal of suspicions towards her master's unusual behaviour.

As a hunter he was a most fearsome opponent, unpredictable though logical, psychotic though intelligent, he had a disturbing enjoyment of and sickening fascination with the kill. But, she realised not long after, as a creature, an individual, with wants, needs and emotions, all were safely, if not painfully, secured behind such a ruthless, unscrupulous mask of mental chaos and blackened humour.

She found his denial of personage at once upsetting, somewhat heart-rendering and, in the true sense of the word, pitiful. Thus far, she could only surmise his reasons for such impressive and imposing defences lay within a haunting, emotionally tearing background full of loss, sorrow and betrayal. Such a history, however painful the experiences, meant he _had _felt; he had loved, despised, envied, been overjoyed and probably laughed in outright happiness, untainted by the darkness that now filtered his being. Seras just wondered if she could ever get him to reveal such an intimate portrait of his true self to her.

It was along this train of thought she had asked herself, 'Do I truly want to know?' Can a locked door once opened, the secrets it hides revealed, be truly ever closed again? Perhaps her interest was, rather than an attempt to understand and offer some form of comfort or support to him, a strange fascination, and opening this door would only water the sprouting seeds of a strange obsession.

And of course, should this affect her standing with her master permanently, would she regret such notions, or would she have to find herself a new home? That is of course if Integra should ever let her go, and with her current expression Seras doubted she would even make it out of this room. She was still waiting, albeit patiently, for some sort of explanation.

If only, the commander thought, she could be educated as to what to say in such an impossible situation, for she was indeed a quick study under tutelage. But she knew that instruction was yet to come and she would wait an immortal life for such to be revealed. For she was mature enough to realise, such a lesson could be taught only by a series of character forming experiences, good or bad; such was the price for a leader's ability. It would seem her dependant nature was to be the bane of her eternal existence.

And so, instead of an inadequate, 'I do not know.' Or 'I can't explain.' She regained a frank level of eye and set her jaw, fisting her hands tighter, white, behind her. A strange arrangement of knuckles and thumbs, tying a symbol of determined silence.

The commander watched as her superior's gaze inflamed, she sat rigidly upright and pulled her hands onto the cool, oak surface, "If you will not answer, I assume you have nothing more to offer than what is contained within this report."

"A death count of 30 men, not including the 15 critically injured who, all but 1, died within the infirmary. The doctor and coroner's report detail that each body had been drained totally of blood, even those of a second unit, Lt. Newman's team, which was dispatched in answer to a radio from someone within the building."

"Upon arrival Newman's unit were attacked by these pre-existing ghouls and several turned members of your own unit. No remains of the originally reported 3 freaks were found, the only evidence left being a strange rune painted, in blood, on the ceiling of the chapel."

"The only survivor, Lt. Walker, awoke briefly from a period of unconsciousness in extreme distress, shouting your name. Upon sedation he continued to scream the words, 'Stop commander,' followed by a series of incoherent ramblings indicating that you had some involvement with the massacre. I cannot make judgement based on the incoherence of a drugged soldier, however, one would ask, Miss Victoria, how it is possible you have nothing to say on such a matter."

Her threat met with cutting quiet, she continued, "Very well, I cannot have a commander who refuses to accept the level of responsibility or lacks the ability to take decisive action as such a post requires. When I had promoted you to the position of Commander I had thought you possessed such, but it would seem you have proved me wrong."

"Therefore, you are suspended from active field duty for the next two days and will remain within the confines of this facility until I deem you fit to venture outside. Temporary demotion is effective as of now, be warned though; I am still considering making the position permanent. When Lt. Walker awakens fully I will review your situation once more."

An iced smirk twitched at the corners of her pursed lips, the pale moonlight streaking her porcelain skin, "As a result of your own incompetence, for the next three weeks you will aid Walter in his recruitment of a new unit, you will also assist him in his more domestic duties around Hellsing, _that_ includes the soldiers' barracks. You may be suspended from active duty for two days but you will earn your keep Miss Victoria; there is little at present to prevent me asking myself why I bother to keep you here."

"And lastly, if for any reason you feel you cannot fulfil these tasks appropriately or you wish to pursue any further activities you will report directly to me. Dismissed _soldier_."

Clean cut and decisive, indeed everything she could not muster within herself, the painful reminder and curt dismissal jolting her into salute after the stunned shock of the report and listed duties. Stiffly turning she floated hazily from the room, only vaguely aware of the slamming door behind her.

Deep rumbling velvet danced delicately through the darkness, yet Integra made no movement of acknowledgement, continuing to sift through the accumulation of files that littered her in-tray. Amongst the coarse rip of recycled paper and tattered envelopes, a disinterested "Yes, Alucard?" floated to his ears.

Integra could feel the weight of his psychosis bearing down upon her in the form of his sacrilegious grin. She knew his input, as undesirable as it is, could not be avoided. This, of course, did not mean she would follow his advice, taunt or whatever he had to offer, but it kept his irritating presence from lingering around her room as she tried to get some work done.

"Domestic duties, Master?" Without lifting her head she could envisage the sickening sneer that accompanied that statement. For a subordinate he was so very opinionated; sometimes she felt like the prisoner, a slave to his bad humour and even worse taste for annoyance. He was the only one who could do so without losing a body part to the pistol in her lower desk drawer, and that was only because she knew it would soon regenerate and she would be left an aggravated but entertained vampire to deal with. And she so hated to be bothered.

"Alucard if I wanted your opinion on my orders I would have asked for it, as it stands I have not. These _duties_ are the only form of punishment I could offer at this time without further information on last night's situation and without damaging the efficiency of further operations. You and your fledging need to appreciate the hassle she has caused Hellsing with her presence. I cannot completely suspend her from active duty, as well you know, our numbers are few and, though she lacks in the attitude of a commander and I have been unable to ascertain her involvements with the operation going awry, she is a good soldier."

"I had not realised you thought so highly of the little policegirl, Master." The sneer had turned to a sarcastic grin; she could hear his unsubtle amusement.

"She is not the one who lingers in my office, making sarcastic comments at an attempt to try my patience. She does not force herself to intrude upon my solitude nor question my orders, I am eternally thankful not all traits, personality or otherwise, are passed from master to fledgling."


	3. Accusations of Remembrance

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any of its characters, etc.

Chapter 3: Accusations of Remembrance

'Punch. Dodge left. Left. Punch, kick, and twist. Dodge right, left.' Each swing deftly connecting with a loud smack and aggressive hiss of the leather bag, the jolted clangour of the chain support swaying under tension.

Walter stood outside the gym, the door ajar, watching Miss Victoria, currently lost in her own feral reality. He winced at each ferocious cry before she once again lunged herself into the offensive, sending a flurry of energetic fists pummelling into the straining punch bag. 'I suppose this relates to the earlier report to Sir Hellsing.' Softly shaking his head he vaguely recalled their brief conversation when he had returned to deliver a report to Integra on Lt. Walker.

_Upon entering the office, after knocking and receiving no answer, Walter was at once grabbed by the pitch-dark shadow of the room, it took a while for his eyes to adjust to the slow leak of moonlight that filtered through the large paned window. The steady trickle of blue, subtle lick of spectral silver, bled across the inky carpet pooling at his feet, a stark silhouette carved into the portrait-perfect nightscape._

_The only sound, aside from the whispered breaths of Integra was the gentle harmony, hum and buzz of the crickets, the soft elegance of wind caressing each silver leaf and blackened bough, and the solitary flirt and flutter of a nearby predatory bat._

_As Integra narrowed her eyes, a delicate incline of her head to him, he was at once bathed in the slight anxiety and silent fury she radiated, the chilled embodiment of contemplation and exasperation. He knew at once there must be good reason for her vexation, but he knew her well enough that she would be loath to admit to any emotion or lack of confidence, much less reveal she did indeed require assistance with a problem or had no idea how to handle it. _

_From serving Integra since her ascension to the head of the Hellsing household Walter was well versed in her methods of operation. As the first woman to take over the duties of leading Hellsing she held a somewhat masculine air, an attempt to conceal any weaknesses outsiders, especially, the all-male members of the round-table, might have chauvinistically perceived all females to possess. 'The knights are judicious enough of her actions as it is, without her providing reason for it'; always a proverbial thorn in the side where secrecy, outside interference and her loyal trump card were concerned, which no doubt, Walter knew, was the largest cause of her stress. _

_Being an old-world, genteel character he was used to social hierarchies, conformation, unsaid rules and ethics of society and a certain degree of maintaining reputation through appearance in the correct circles. But the modern idea's of today's government he found occasionally baffling, the Royal National Knights were no exception; the levels of red tape Integra had to sift through daily, due to their input, only served to make him dizzy. 'Surely', he thought, 'such strict conformity to redundant rules and regulations only impedes or indeed prevents action and quick decision. What happened to the good old days when one shot first and thought later?'_

_Whilst admiring the daunting litter of paperwork strewn across the oak surface he caught a glimpse of an all too familiar face peering innocently back. Taking an instinctive and unconscious step forward, he jerked at the abrupt sound of a throat clearing, effectively shearing the vines of still tranquillity that entangled the ethereal midnight luminosity._

"_Sir Hellsing?" She remained unmoving as if she hadn't heard him, but he knew better, she always heard everything, if she didn't acknowledge a statement it was because she didn't want to waste time discussing it or she believed it obsolete information. He looked quizzically at her, waiting for a response; but still he received none._

_It was then her behaviour dawned on him, the sudden realization resulting in a mental clout to the brow. She was waiting on _him_! How queer he must have seemed waltzing into her office uninvited and blankly staring at her desk without first providing reason for his appearance! "Oh, pardon me, Sir Integra, I brought the file and doctor's report you requested on Lt. Walker." A somewhat apologetic smile of mortification had found its place upon his lips, blushing his age-speckled, creased cheeks a quiet scarlet._

_Turning rigidly, arm outstretched, without looking up, she pulled the file into a splayed hand, leafing through the contents with a rapid flit of sapphire eyes, tender raise of an eyebrow and the mellifluous flutter of pages. Once again his eyes dropped to the naïve observer with her fiery crimson gaze._

"_Walter don't forget that Miss Victoria will be assisting you tomorrow, and I want to see each and every file for the new recruits before they are enlisted. Try to avoid the general atheist riff-raff we usually receive applications from, I want someone who will devotedly fight for their country and their queen, even if it means their lives are forfeit. We have higher standards than any other agency could even hope to achieve and the criteria will be upheld. I expect nothing less than the best, I trust you will not disappoint." _

_His gaze left the young vampires face and momentarily flickered across the photos of the fallen soldiers from last night's operation. It was on these occasions he was thankful for his retirement from active field duty within the Hellsing organisation. Yes, there were times when he did feel regret and yearned to once again join the fight, but memories of dying comrades and the gruesome and torturous scenes he had witnessed in all his years of service instantly sobered him of his adventurous, daring spirit. He closed his eyes in a moment of reverence; he now knew why Integra was in such a state of deliberation._

"_You don't think she…" He couldn't even bring himself to utter such words, he met her weary stare; she understood._

"_I don't know Walter." The slight concern that laced her voice worried him the most, just what would she do?_

"_But she's never even-"_

"_I know Walter, I know, but I must look at every possibility and I must admit the evidence against her is building. Only Lt. Walker knows the full truth and until he awakens…"_

"_But Sir Hellsing-" This time he stopped himself, he had overstepped the boundaries, he was sure, the sudden scowl that appeared in only her eyes confirmed this._

"_That will be all Walter." He winced slightly at her tone and bowing slightly in apology he left. He gently replaced the door on the latch before wandering, in a reflective daze, down the halls once again._

It was seldom he made any sort of disagreement with Integra, he truly respected her position, but he had felt a strange overwhelming sense of obligation to defend the girl; he had a strong connection with her too, she was like a daughter he knew he was now too old to have. He had missed that opportunity a long time ago; but he had not sacrificed such a life for his queen and country only, he also knew it was partially his own selfish desires, romantic notions of war and patriotism that had set him on his path in youth, so he would not regret those choices now nor would he complain of short-comings.

He had only known her for the past year, but he had found her truly endearing, she was a welcome breath of fresh air in the household. However, it was not only his relationship with Seras that had caused his outright objection or horrified expression at such an accusation towards her. It was the innocent cheer and youthful energy she held about everything around her and the fact that she was quite possibly the most humane and compassionate individual in the house.

Although she was now a vampire Seras desperately clung to normalcy, she drank only enough blood so as to not starve and even then it was only ever the donated kind, she contained none of the emotional detachment, chaotic lunacy or perverse enthralment with butchery that certain other members of the household maintained. She would lay her life on the line for anyone she encountered, for he knew that she somewhat despised her new situation and placed all life above her own; perhaps she felt such a selfish sacrifice would earn her the grace of god in death; he could only speculate.

Last night had no doubt been a failure, only something catastrophic could incur such a massacre; two squads in their entirety had been slaughtered, with the exception of Lt. Walker, who himself was only several grasps away from death's fiery door. But whatever had occurred was in no way, could not possibly be, what Integra was suggesting. There was just no way and he would obstinately refuse to believe such of Seras unless he witnessed it with his own eyes.

The scrunch of knuckles tempestuously seared towards the half-battered, tattered remains of the punch bag; but before the expected thump and hissed pressure of the punch an abrupt swerve of the hips flashed her gaze to the doorway, the fist still clenched in unexpressed fury at its outstretched pinnacle; dead even with a sparked, acute gaze of sacrilegious, bludgeoned red.

Springing from a lunged position of bent knee and out-thrust hind leg, both fists instinctually crippled into a gather, fuelled by pent tension and uncertainty, aimed in threat at the now ajar mahogany double-doors. Someone had been there; she edged offensively closer. She was sure; she had felt the smothering sensation of eyes crawling over her, that unpleasant tingle that plucked her skin into gooseflesh with an eerie caress of chilled breath.

Throwing her figure through the doors in a swift surge of courage and chaos of fear, she grasped breath within her lifeless lungs half tempted to close her eyes. The tumultuous grip of gurgling fear dissipated with a shushed relief of breath; the halls were empty. The soft seep of blue was now tainted with ochre hues the shadows hiding, withdrawing, exposing sheer reflections of untainted white in the harsh parquet.

She was sure she had not imagined it, someone had been there; she could almost taste the lingering, drifting, dripping mist of scent of heated blood that clung in the dawn air, its sweet moisture tantalizing against her skin in refreshing coolness. She supposed she should get some rest for later; she was not normally awake during daylight hours and, without doubt, tomorrows tasks would prove a challenge. Softly, somewhat languidly she made towards her chambers in the cellars.

Seras knew she should have been asleep already but her body had resisted at the chaotic state of her thoughts, the hazy images that fogged her mind. 'I still see their faces.' Perhaps her sudden unease in the gym was not, intuition or instinct as she had perceived but a creeping outcrop of lethargy revealed in the form of paranoia.

Running her fingers through her cold hair she sighed. She had gone to the gym in an attempt to arrange her thoughts of yesterday's mission; releasing her emotions in the form of anger towards the punch-bag usually allowed her to sift through her thoughts detachedly, avoiding an unprofessional break-down later. But this time, this time she still could not clearly remember the events of last night, in fact, each memory was becoming cloudier, washed over and dissolved within her mind.

Oh, she could still see their faces; those images were burned into her soul, and those she would not forget. However, everything else had become like a dream, a dream remembered so vividly when one awakens but one that quickly disperses at any further attempt to recall it. As she almost floated in her daze through the barren cellar corridors she closed her eyes in an attempt to replace the facts in her mind.

'I remember sending half the troops through the back door, and accompanying the second half through the main door.' Yes, that was clear enough, the grounds outside, though overgrown with twisted gnarls of root and branch and seeping with the tangles of weeds, had been empty, devoid of all but the heated puffs of breath from her soldiers that filtered through the delicate fog.

'After that, I see the doors, those huge imposing doors of finest wood, arching even beyond the area exposed by the fog, slowly open and then as I push through, only the whiteness, the blinding searing light that could only be compared to a glow of the heavens.' But trying to remember further only brought aggravation at the grim sight of gutted, gouged and gored bodies of her fallen men.

A sudden flash of her hands upon the twisted, ruptured neck of one of the men ripped her eyelids open, wrenching a gasp from her insides; she looked down at her hands. Blood, deep scarlet rushing, seeping, running tendrils crawling down her arms; she ran to her bathroom scrubbing at the blood mercilessly in the sink, but the constant stream of murderous rose would not come off. She began to panic, seizing unneeded gasps into her body in over-gulped stutters until a smouldering throb battered her mind in frenzy.

Several moments passed and she felt strangely serene, detached and somewhat euphoric as she slipped into her coffin. What had happened? Strangely, she didn't care. She couldn't recall the cause for her sore head or the blaze of pain that came from reddened friction-burns upon her hands, and something told her she didn't want to delve deep enough to find out.


	4. Craving Death

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any of its characters, etc.

Chapter 4: Craving Death

"I have narrowed it down to all the applicants that meet Sir Integra's standard criteria. I just need you, Miss Victoria, to help me revise these files and select the most suitable recruits, the cream of the crop so to speak. After all, _you_ will be training them."

"Ok, Walter, one sec."

He wiped his monocle, watching as she stooped, hugging her knees, and peered into the miniature white fridge, she wrinkled her nose in revulsion, lifting a bag of synthetic film, taut with a dark blushing fluid. Clamping the bag at a contagious length between two fingers, she closed the small door with the butt of her knee and made to the counter at which he currently sat.

The tiny sack slumped into the marble surface as she hoisted herself upon a high stool. He stared quizzically as she narrowed her eyes in vexation and what he deciphered as a gesture of intimidation, 'As intimidating as a spring lamb,' for the inoffensive object.

A quick blink released her when she noticed his tickle of amusement; her porcelain cheeks now plushed a pale glow of rose, she refocused upon the 'core of all evil', this time a little more hesitantly and little less dramatically.

'I wonder,' he watched, fascinated, fixed, almost following her facial expressions, as she lifted the bag to her lips, sinking her fangs, although timidly, into the supple skin that sealed the vein of fluid.

He pitied her, how could he not? He never pitied many, felt it a reaction to cowardice, which he most definitely frowned upon. She, however, was different; one of the few. He felt she played her part well, and had he been given her choices and situation in youth he hoped someone would have been kind enough to show compassion to him, for he knew he would have needed it.

He wanted to pity her, and so, simply put, he would. But he would never tell her that, he had learned early in life people appreciated pity only silently, to speak it would be crude and most individuals found it an insult. He could understand that too.

Seras didn't need to lift her grounded stare from the clump of files, now smeared across the bench in front of her, to know Walter was gawking, to know the look of shock upon his face. She was quite surprised herself, usually just the thought of tepid human blood trickling down her oesophagus frothed and curdled her stomach; a ghost of copper after-taste enticing any liquid to rise again, tickling her throat with an irritable whisker. Apparently, for once, her determination actually counted for something.

Idly, she had been reading the file slumped in front of her; when she hazed out of her thoughts she played interest, for she didn't want to see or engage Walter's fussing approval. She doubted he would understand her reasoning and perhaps verbal acknowledgement of her actions would reverse her abandoned nausea.

She had been adamant with herself, after much self-questioning, that this decision had not stemmed from any enjoyment of partaking in the life fluids of the human body. She was certain she'd never enjoy that, it was simply a conscious and enforced resolution on her part that had her draining the blood sack dry.

'Like a leech.' Disgusting.

But inescapable.

She had always known her refusal to 'eat' would deter her progression, as feeble as it was, into a true vampire, becoming instead half-starved, lethargic and weak. After all, it was her life, her choice, right?

Wrong.

Last night, lying in the wrestled tussle of unrest, she had had an epiphany. She was an integral part of Hellsing and as such she had not only a duty, but a personal dedication towards each of her soldiers and comrades. Not performing to the best of her ability because of squeamish tastes was not just a danger to her life, but theirs as well. And she by far valued their lives above her 'existence'; the prior funeral her wake up call.

Each wept tear of a relative, loved one, friend and even comrade were to her foul diamonds, tainted with their own fickle purity that mocked relentlessly. She had no family, no loved ones, not really, not anymore and she doubted someone would weep so for her. Guiltily she remember her selfish, happy bitterness that these soldiers at least had someone to cry for them, mourn them, and have loved them; she would never have such.

Disgust had followed her self-pity.

It was then she realised, then and only then, that her life _was _a mere existence where these people had true, valued lives; that was far more important. Yes, experience was cruel and tortuous to her, but she realised, sometimes one must sacrifice themselves for the collective, and that is exactly what she would do. If her unhappiness meant less death and tears then so be it. Tears are expensive.

"Chorster, Nathaniel. This looks promising." She continued, "7 years of employment as a minister at several protestant missionaries and churches throughout England, followed by 2 years military service in Winchester's training regiment. Superiors noted remarkable marksmanship, extensive and well-executed knowledge of several forms of martial-arts, especially proficient in kick-boxing and commendable leadership and teamwork skills."

"Careful Miss Victoria, you'll be responsible for hiring your own replacement," Walter chuckled. Seras however, did not find this as amusing. Her expression must have been pure horror for it caused Walter to shake his head vigorously, "No, Seras, I was just… I'm sure you'll get your old position back soon. Integra's just unsure how to handle this… situation, though she'll never admit it." He gripped her gloved hand with a reassuring squeeze: for both her benefit and his. He returned, once more, to his mound of files, 'Integra _has_ to be wrong, she must.'

As sunrise reached its golden limbs above a cosmopolitan skyline Seras and Walter continued to sift through the teetering pillars of files in the Kitchen, and, hours later, as the sun perched upon its golden pinnacle, thumping a constant pound of wilting heat upon London a sizeable number of recruits had been arranged for arrival at the barracks for the field test.

It was now lunch time and Walter had left to bring Sir Integra her tea and scones; along with a cumbersome mound of recruitment details. Seras, meanwhile, sat staring at the iced bucket of curdling blood packets she was to bring to Alucard's shadow-sponged chambers. One hand upon her forehead, the other a fist upon her hip, she drawled, 'Oh he's going to love this.'

Five minutes of coaxing found her traipsing a labyrinth of dampened halls in the bowels of the cellars, dead bucket of circulatory sustenance in hand. 'I can't believe I have to do this… how degrading.' Gentle wafts of moist mould and a subtle ping and drip of leaking rainwater rippled the darkness as she ascended yet another set of slippery, stone stairs. Several yards down the length of choking blackness a soft halo, the golden glow of a lit torch, perched upon the wall, cast itself across the chilled, gritty floors, encircling walls and a single bolt crested, deep-oak door.

Stammering to halt, Seras's knuckles hesitantly rapped upon the crusty surface- no answer. Weary of engulfing shadows, she pressed heavily against the door and with a shivering squeal and creak slipped into the pitch obscurity. 'Quick!' A gasp- too slow- she jumped and spun, the hulking door had clattered closed behind her.

She was now ready to turn, leave the ever-leadening bucket upon the table behind her and flee before her enigmatic, ever psychotic, Master arrived. Unfortunately, her reversed step was halted against something- something solid that had not, and should not, of been there. Unwilling to move, she resisted the urge to jerk or shiver with cold anticipation, lest he thought her afraid. But stilling such chaotic adrenaline was something akin to absorbing an explosion and in retaliation her body shook in almost unbearable quenches of fear, inefficiently relieving bursts of energy with each chattering tremble.

Soft, solid, murmured vibrations trickled her spine and deep velvet laughter ground through her- she stayed mouse-still, the involuntary quivering ceased.

Persecution was as inevitable as the confrontation itself, and she had made it all the worse by her thwarted yet obvious desire to play at cunning and unseen.

Two hands pressed upon her shoulders, rough but delicate; cold but warming. "Well, well, Police girl, waitress duties today?"- No answer. "Strange change of occupation, not that I don't appreciate the exchange. The Angel's ripened beauty lacks the… subtleties of effeminate youth." his fingertips flow upon her chin, a spectre of touch - still no answer.

Her lukewarm skin felt deserted to the smoulder of bleaching sunlight outside.

Distracted by sultry breath upon breath caressing her left ear and sweeping along her neck like a lustful crawl of fingertips and tongue, she hardly knew he spoke; each word mere syllables of noise that plucked and ebbed upon her skin. Seras felt her body's physical craving, her minds mental wave of retreat; the solution a compromise of a lingering, lulled moment of dark indulgence before she quickly broke contact; the electricity of his touch still a jostling jolt as she fled the darkness, a soft echo of, "Walter will be waiting for me," resonating through the loneliness.

He watched soundlessly, her flee to sunlit levels of the mansion. He had meant only to tease, how he so enjoyed watching her pout and whine like a child, but evidently he had unnerved her more than usual. The moment had danced upon awkward, almost uncomfortably intimate.

He definitely had not planned that.

The police girl's strange reaction to his touch accompanied by the strange fix of time had stirred sensations, which now lingered upon his silk sealed fingertips. He flexed his gun-less palms, it was as though a pulse once more beat beneath their ivory skin.

It was unsettling, but not totally alien to him.

'Ah, to once more wield a beating heart, a frail body succumbing to fragility and death as mere years pass...to lay as perishing flesh among lily-littered earth, a millennia of penitence complete.'

'What it would be to suffer eternity no longer.'

* * *

Hey, I wanted to thank everyone for their reviews. I really appreciate it as it helps me improve my writing style, which was my primary aim for this story. I've been reading fanfiction on this site for a long time and I thought it was time I wrote something. I really enjoy creative writing but I must admit I was certainly intimidated by the prospect of posting it here, everyone's stories are to such a high standard. 

As for this story, I know where its going and hopefully it won't be unoriginal. I was really surprised when I started this by how long some sections got when I started translating ideas to text, I hope its not dragging on too much. Sometimes I feel it's necessary to be more introspective in the beginning chapters to set up my interpretations of the characters feelings.

I will be introducing some original characters, but they will most definitely take a back seat to Seras and Alucard, who, by the way, will be having increasing interaction from this point. Just keep letting me know what you think, I really like to hear your opinions, the good, the bad and the ugly! XD

shadowkeepre: I hope I fixed that appropriately, I was so embarassed! Im glad you noticed and I'll keep an eyeout for slip ups of that type in future! Thanks.

the-eighth-sin: I'm really glad you said that, kudos to you for being brave enough but still staying hopeful P I was finding it was geting that way myself so thanks to your backing up on that I decided to speed up setting the plot a little, and make it a little less introspective. But please bear with me, its going to take a little while for the real action and twists to begin. Thank you!

Batbabe1, Cheza's Despair, VictorianKittenNamida, GladePheonix and Susume, I really want to thank you for your comments. It encourages me get each update finished and to perservere. So cookies and kisses for all! lol


	5. Carving a Space

Disclaimer; I do not own Hellsing or any of its characters, etc.

Thank you for all the support! I'm sorry this has taken so long, things have been completely hectic. And I took some time to plan where exactly this was going.

This chapter is a little shorter than the rest will be because it sort of ended up in the middle of what I have planned for each of the others. So bear with me please.

Thanks so much for the reviews and the emails, they were so very helpful and I was able to get through a rough patch with this story, although it's only the beginning of the plot I have planned.

Chapter 5: Carving a space

As Walter watched Seras emerge from the shadows of the basement levels like she had been drowning in them, he couldn't help but laugh. 'Surely it's not as bad as she made out,' he thought, 'then again…knowing Alucard.' She was still wiping down her skirt and shooting nervous glances into the stone stairwell when he walked over.

"Seras? I'm cleaning out the more specialised equipment in my chambers. Come." He said, ignoring her terrified jump at his voice, and then took off for the upper floors by way of the main staircase.

Seras looked once more at the pit of darkness to her left, shivered and made to follow the butler.

1

She had just finished snapping the magazine into place when Integra stepped into the room. Moonlight leaked between the limbs of Integra's silhouette before she closed the door behind her, the temperature dropping several degrees when Seras noted the expression on her face.

"Sir Integra?" Walter spoke, though Integra did not move her eyes from Seras. Seras was trying her best to prevent eye contact with her senior by fiddling with some already assembled weapons.

"Walter, I have come to inform you that I have revised the folders on possible new recruits and had requests sent out for their presence tomorrow morning for interviews and field testing." She finally brought her gaze to the butler, "They seem adequate."

"Yes." He agreed stacking a newly assembled gun into an open box on the floor.

"Seras?"

"Yes Sir Integra?"

"You are dismissed. I suggest you get some sleep."

"Sir?"

"You will be assigning the soldiers to their barracks tomorrow. You will also provide directions to the armoury, kitchens, mess hall, and other important landmarks on the estate."

"Sir." Seras replied nervously. She knew what else this task would involve and was experienced enough to want to avoid it.

Integra left without another word, Seras was sure she had sent a meaningful glance to Walter beforehand, though she was clueless to its meaning.

"Okay Seras, that will be all for tonight. I will wake you before the recruits arrive. Goodnight." He smiled fondly at her as he spoke. He knew tomorrow would be hell.

"Goodnight Walter. And thank you." She said with a warmer tone than politeness. She could see the sympathy in his gaze as she left for her room.

She yawned as she passed the uniformed doors along the dark corridor. Strands of blue fed a weave between the blinds and she was sure she had spent almost the entire day cleaning in Walter's room.

The time had allowed her to get over her masters slightly inappropriate behaviour that afternoon, but the thought still made her shiver. She couldn't shake the soft feeling of his breaths on her neck.

Seras stopped as she neared the steps that to her room… and to Alucard's room, though he was two floors below. She was going to have to do this; she couldn't really sleep here in the corridor. Though, as she thought out the possibilities of another meeting with Alucard, that option was looking more and more enticing.

'No, I have to,' she thought resolutely, fisting her hands stiffly at her sides.

She watched for him carefully as she descended the steps; in the shadows, in the crevices between the stone walls, above her and most importantly behind her. Although she knew that if he really wanted to, she would be completely oblivious to him creeping up on her.

Seras finally made it to her room. She could not feel its coldness; it was as warm as she was. Climbing into the bed, she lowered the lid and closed her eyes. It was futile. Once more she was drowning in a sea of faces she recognised, a sea of faces of those she had let die because of her own inadequacies as a vampire and as a leader.

2

Seras had not slept when Walter entered her chambers with a fresh batch of human blood. She heard the bucket drop against the table and he knew he that was all that was needed. So he left.

As the lid rose she slid to her feet and stared at the table, remembering her personal vows of protection to the new soldiers. "Time to get ready," she sighed to herself reaching out for the packet.

3

Half an hour found Seras dressed and standing amid chaos on the training fields of the estate. The wind fondled strands of her hair as she tried to sweep them from her eyes. The new recruits, a larger number than Seras cared to count, stood in clusters chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

A few shot strange looks in Seras direction and she looked nervously away before chiding herself for lack of confidence. She stood up tall, taking on a superior air. She was going to have to work hard to get her old position back. The first step was gaining both the fear and respect necessary from those who would be beneath her.

It had taken a long time with the former recruits because she had shown herself as nervous and easily pushed around. 'I'll get it right this time,' she thought, 'for their sake as well as my own.' And once more she thought of those who had been with her in the church.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Huh?" A man in his late twenties stood before her, waving his hand in her face. His face bore soft lines but the hardened skin of an experienced soldier. A few grey strands dashed the dark, dry hair that fell from beneath his woollen hat and into his eyes.

"I asked if you were alright."

"I'm fine!" She bit out; annoyed she had been caught staring off. "You should be lining up for inspection, not standing around making idle chit chat, _Sir_." She kept the smile from her face but she was pleased at herself for showing some form of command.

He quickly dashed off, joining the end of the line of recruits as Integra made her way along each.

Seras smirked as she came closer to the man she had just reprimanded. Integra was sure to notice his lateness at joining the rest.

When Integra greeted him as she had done the others, Seras' smile dropped. Why hadn't she said anything to him? She stepped a little closer to hear what was being said between the two without being indiscrete about it.

"Mr Chorster, I take it?" Integra said offering her hand which he took and shook professionally.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, and Seras' face fell a little further, not noticing the irritation on Integra's face at such a title.

Seras swallowed hard at her mistake. 'How could I not have recognised the photo from the file?' It took great willpower not to smack her head at her stupidity.

"Okay, if you'd like to step up and I'll brief you on what I want done with the recruits today." Integra watched as he left the line, then snapped her gaze up to an unusually pale Seras, "Victoria, join the line."

Nathaniel Chorster looked up and met Seras gaze as they traded places. She found it very difficult to maintain eye contact, but she was determined not to show weakness, even if she had been the one to make the mistake of being rude to her superior.

4

In his defence, he had not made any reference to her earlier stupidity. He had introduced himself to the recruits genially, and had then thrown them into a rigorous training exercise, to 'let them get the feel for his command' as he had put it. It was nothing new to Seras; she had felt more energized than she could ever remember.

Seemed her master was correct about the blood making her stronger, though she would never admit that to him. She was in fact glad he had yet to make an appearance. Yesterday's encounter still irked her a little, leaving goose bumps trailing along her pale flesh.

Seras was sure it was nerves.

"Seras!"

"Sir Integra?" She asked automatically.

"I require your presence in the barracks." Integra said stepping back inside. The loud cheers of the soldiers stopped immediately.

Seras knew what this meant and sighed. If she hadn't already instilled fear into the soldiers, she was certainly going to now. Or they would laugh like last time.

When she stepped in she was sure Integra had already said something for all eyes turned her way.

The room was silent as Seras stepped towards the front. The eyes followed. A large crowd of men stood not ten feet from her, filling the entire middle and back of the huge MESS hall.

"So where's the vampire?" Called one of the braver men at the back.

"She stands before you gentlemen," Integra replied nonchalantly, smiling only slightly at Seras' obvious discomfort with the current situation.

"You're joking right?"

"Jenkins! Is that any way to speak to your superior? Outside and do forty laps of the field!" Shouted a voice from the back and Seras watched as Chorster stepped out from a break in the crowd. Jenkins disappeared out the door after murmuring an apology to Integra.

5

Seras sighed again, irritation more than a little evident in her voice, "_Room 34_, Gerford."

She hadn't had to reveal the meagre amount of power she had to the soldiers as, at that most convenient moment, her master had decided to make an appearance. More than willing to display the full extent of his powers to the disbelieving recruits, even Seras had found their expressions funny after he left through the wall.

She was glad Alucard had made no acknowledgement of her during his visit, and a little disappointed. She had been expecting him to humiliate her and when he hadn't she had felt a little unimportant. Though she was still happy the soldiers thought she had his level of power.

'This could work to my advantage,' she had thought.

And now she thoroughly regretted those words.

The soldiers kept watching her wearily; a few would get so nervous they would drop things or walk into others. Or they would just stop and stare at her a moment before carrying out her orders.

She could only hope that it would die down after a few days.


End file.
